off the assailants. But, as the Spanish captain
ordered his men not to shoot, he dropped his weapons and exclaimed: "I
am Guatemotzin. Lead me to Malintzin;[33] I am his prisoner, but let no
harm come to my wife and my followers."

Holguin assured him that his wishes should be respected, and assisted
him to get on board the brigantine, followed by his wife and attendants.
These were twenty in number, consisting of Coanaco, the deposed Lord of
Tlacopan, the Lord of Tlacopan, and several other caciques and
dignitaries, whose rank, probably, had secured them some exemption from
the general calamities of the siege. When the captives were seated on
the deck of the vessel Holguin requested the Aztec Prince to put an end
to the combat by commanding his people in the other canoes to surrender.
But with a dejected air he replied: "It is not necessary. They will
fight no longer when they see their Prince is taken." He spoke the
truth. The news of Guatemotzin's capture spread rapidly through the
fleet and on shore, where the Mexicans were still engaged in conflict
with their enemies. It ceased, however, at once. They made no further
resistance; and those on the water quickly followed the brigantines,
which conveyed their captive monarch to land. It seemed as if the fight
had been maintained thus long the better to divert the enemy's attention
and cover their master's retreat.

Meanwhile, Sandoval, on receiving tidings of the capture, brought his
own brigantine alongside of Holguin's and demanded the royal prisoner to
be surrendered to him. But the captain claimed him as his prize. A
dispute arose between the parties, each anxious to have the glory of the
deed, and perhaps the privilege of commemorating it on his escutcheon.
The controversy continued so long that it reached the ears of Cortes,
who, in his station on the azotea, had learned with no little
satisfaction the capture of his enemy. He instantly sent orders to his
wrangling officers to bring Guatemotzin before him, that he might adjust
the difference between them. He charged them, at the same time, to treat
their prisoner with respect. He then made preparations for the
interview, caused the terrace to be carpeted with crimson cloth and
matting, and a table to be spread with provisions, of which the unhappy
Aztecs stood so much in need. His lovely Indian mistress, Dona Marina,
was present to act as interpreter. She stood by his side through all the
troubled scenes of the